


Never Work With Sisters or Animals

by Siria



Series: Nantucket AU [63]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teyla's little boy, they both agree, is the cutest kid ever to have been delivered unexpectedly in the back seat of Ronon's VW Bug on Nantucket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Work With Sisters or Animals

**Author's Note:**

> For the_oscar_cat. Thanks to Jenn for betaing!

Teyla's little boy, they both agree, is the cutest kid ever to have been delivered unexpectedly in the back seat of Ronon's VW Bug on Nantucket. Quite possibly the cutest kid to have been born in the back seat of any automobile on any island, ever. He's got his mother's smile, ten fingernails so small that Rodney's sure it must be some kind of biological impossibility, his godfather Ronon twisted entirely around his little finger already, and is obviously intelligent and alert enough that a great future lies ahead of him.

He's also got a set of lungs on him even more powerful than Rodney's own, and when John and Rodney stagger in the front door after a long day's baby-sitting, Rodney's plaintive cry of "No more babies, ever," gets instant agreement from John, even though that agreement is muffled by the couch cushion that John's planted his face in.

Rodney manages to drag himself into the kitchen to give Cash and Planck and the kittens fresh food and water, and to stand at the sink and knock back a large cup of very, very strong coffee. Planck stands on the kitchen table and bats curiously at the papers Rodney left there—the ones on the potential usage of his expansion of Schwarz-Christoffel mapping when considering wormhole space—the ones he should have sent to Sam yesterday—the ones that Planck is now covering in wet paw-prints and cat hair, but Rodney finds himself just blinking at the cat and saying "Did you know that a week-old digestive system could do that? I did not know that a week-old digestive system could do that."

The cat blinks back at him, and Rodney scrubs a hand through his hair before stumbling back out into the living room. John's sprawled on his back on the couch, hair wild and mouth open and snoring, his only concession to sleep the fact that he's managed to kick off his jeans and shoes first. Rodney thinks this is a very, very good idea, and so he joins him, curling up at John's side on the wide couch and burying his head into the soft nook of John's armpit.

"No," John mumbles in his sleep, "Y'r turn t'change him, nooo," but he settles down when Rodney pokes him in the side, and they sleep until long after the sun's sunk to set over the sea in a blaze of pale Atlantic gold.

Rodney's just drifting back into consciousness, pleasantly if abstractly aware of John's warmth along his side and the strip of John's skin between t-shirt and boxers that's so soft to the touch, and contemplating whether he'd prefer to give John a hand-job first, or to eat an enormous plate of mac and cheese, when the door bell rings.

His eyelids open reluctantly but quickly, because it's past nine on a Monday evening, which is not exactly prime visiting hours on Nantucket, and it's either someone from the SGC to tell him the world's about to end again, and to please put on some pants before the nice people on the _Daedalus_ beam him up, or it's Ronon, with the squirt tucked under his arm like a football because dear God, he's managed to produce even more bodily fluids. Rodney heaves himself up off the couch and shuffles over to the door, his socks scuffing against the wood floor while he tries to smooth down hair that he knows must be doing its best impression of John's, and from behind him he can hear John whimper "No more baby" before he sticks his head under a cushion.

He flings the door open, prepared to say "Go away!" or "_What_?" or "Ronon, no more baby poo," but instead what he blurts out is "_You_."

"Hi, Mer," Jeannie says tiredly. "Great to see you, no, my trip was great, by the way, I'm pregnant again, can I come in?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just barges past him and dumps two large, floral suitcases on the floor of the tiny hallway; which is just as well, because Rodney don't think words are an option right now.

His mouth opens and closes while Jeannie—the sister whom he hasn't seen in four years, for all that there's been a slow and careful détente through letters and e-mails over the past couple of months, encouraged by John and instigated with painstaking awkwardness by Rodney—introduces herself to John. By the time his brain is starting to catch up again, it's to hear Jeannie say "So, you're the sort of brother-in-law, huh? Mer did not mention that hair."

"Mer?" John says quizzically, just as Rodney's brain gets back up to full speed and he says "What do you mean, _pregnant again_?"

Jeannie settles down into John's favourite armchair with an _oof_. "Well, Mer, when a man places his erection into a woman's vagina—"

"Jesus God," Rodney says.

"_Mer_?" John repeats from the couch.

"And then," Jeannie says, kicking off her shoes with a pleased noise and wiggling her toes, "the man and the woman share a _special hug_—"

"Yes, yes," Rodney snaps, slamming the door loud enough to make Cash bark, aggrieved, in the kitchen. "I get both the mechanics and the trauma, thank you so much. But to make things clearer, I will expand my question: why did you let that English major near you again, why aren't you back in Toronto, your defence is next week, what are you doing here, and also. Uh. Hi, nice to see you. Again. As it were." His words trail away: Jeannie again, after four years, in a yellow sundress that's just maybe starting to look a little too tight around the waist, smile curving her mouth upwards and the beginnings of fine lines around her eyes.

Jeannie's expression softens slightly. "Hi, Mer," she says, and this time there's warmth behind her words.

"Okay," John says, sitting up and scrubbing at his hair. "Someone's going to have to explain this to me. And no," he says pre-emptively when he sees Rodney opening his mouth with a smug expression on his face, "I don't mean anything to do with vaginas."

"Later," Rodney snaps. He does not want to have to deal with the revelation as to the name on his passport just now.

"You're sleeping with someone who rejoices in the name of Meredith Rodney Ingram McKay," Jeannie says to John, ignoring Rodney as thoroughly as she ever did. "Congratulations. Do you guys have any tea?"

John blinks up at Rodney for a second, mouth agape, before he starts to laugh, his usual _har har hars_ replaced by something that's suspiciously close to a giggle.

Rodney doesn't know who to point at in outrage, his finger quivering between them both for a long moment before he gives up and stomps into the kitchen. Tea for Jeannie, coffee for John, and possibly a Valium for him. Or several.

He hears the sound of quiet conversation from the living room, hushed laughter from John, and then Jeannie's padding into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair and sits at the cluttered table, scritching a welcoming Planck and propping her chin on her free hand. "Well," she says, "he seems nice. Too nice for you, frankly. Are you blackmailing him into living with you?"

"You do realise," Rodney says, squinting at her in disapproval, "that you learned the fine art of changing the subject from me. Spill. What happened with Kaleb?"

Jeannie's mouth twists up in something that's either distaste or sadness; Rodney can't quite tell. "The test said I was pregnant, Kaleb said he'd fully support me taking more time out from my PhD if that's what I wanted, I said what if I didn't want to stay at home, he said that'd be fine too, so I said what do you mean, do you actually have an opinion about anything, and then he said—"

Rodney knocks back a slug of very strong espresso and lets Jeannie's voice wash over him, watches her hands sketch out the scope of her disagreement with her husband. He suddenly has a brand new appreciation for what it must be like for John, having to live with a McKay sibling. And for the English major: all that, plus pregnancy hormones? Kaleb was just lucky Jeannie had taken the non-violent approach of fleeing to another country—Rodney may have been famous because of that bomb he'd constructed for his grade six science fair, but Jeannie's project a couple of years later had been _infamous_.

"So you came here instead?" Rodney says sceptically. "Left Madison with Kaleb and decided that the best way to get out of your uterine-related problems is to flee Canada for Nantucket. To see _me_."

Jeannie wrinkles her nose. "It's not like it's permanent. I have a return ticket for Tuesday. I'm not... I'm not really angry with Kaleb. I think I just wanted to see you."

"_Why_?" Rodney says, because he's frankly still a little astonished sometimes that John makes the effort of coming back along Cliff Road in the evenings to their house; that Jeannie, the sister whose last words to him had been something along the lines of 'insufferable asshole,' would want to come here to see him, now, is bordering on the incomprehensible.

"Because," Jeannie says, rubbing at her forehead, "you're a jerk sometimes, Mer, and I wanted to show you that I can have a kid in kindergarten and another one on the way and still get my PhD. I wanted you to see that I'm happy with Kaleb and Maddy—" She holds up a finger when she sees him opening his mouth. "And shut up, don't say anything, because I would bet you all the Kona you could drink in a month that you've had at least three blow-out arguments with John by now."

Rodney closes with his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. That would be a lot of delicious coffee.

Jeannie sighs. "Mostly, I think I just—you're my brother, and in spite of everything... I think I wanted you to see me now, and know that I've got everything I ever wanted, and be _happy_ for me."

At first, the hug Rodney gives her is tentative and a little awkward. "You're good, right?" he says, "You're happy?" And when Jeannie's arms come up around him, Rodney squeezes her so tight that he almost lifts her off her stool. She wheezes a little, and he backs off as suddenly as if she'd burnt him. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, hands fluttering uselessly, "The baby? Was that too tight, I—"

She punches him in the arm as she hops down off her stool. "Don't be an idiot, Mer. I just think breathing is a fun pastime, that's all."

"Oh," he says, blinking uselessly down at her; the grin she flashes him in return is blinding, the kind she'd always use on him when they were kids and she'd wanted to charm him out of the last cupcake, or peanut butter and jelly sandwich. His kid sister, and she's going to have another baby, and she's happy, and he has a feeling there's another dopey smile on his face when she stands on tip toe to hug him lightly again.

"We're going to talk later," she says, snagging her cup of tea from the kitchen counter and padding out towards the living room. "And you're going to make me dinner. No buts! But first, I'm going to have a little chat with John."

Rodney can hear her settle onto the couch next to John and say "So, you want to hear about the time Mer caught mono from Jimmy Wisniewski's girlfriend, and it ended up being announced to the entire school _and_ Jimmy Wiśniewski over the intercom?"

Rodney drops his head into his hands and groans, and considers taking those pills himself. "Family," he tells Planck morosely; the cat meows consolingly, and settles himself down for a nap on Rodney's foot.


End file.
